Freedom
by citysinger13
Summary: She no longer felt free, but tethered by her own pain. Something must change. Lavellan/Solas breakup and aftermath.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the original characters from _Dragon Age: Inquisition._**

The mirror told no lies. Her vallaslin, that which had marked her as an adult, that which had tied her back to her late mother through their matching tattoos, was truly gone. Shaesa hadn't seen her face bare like this for nearly four years—it was as if she were a child. A bare-faced, ignorant little girl.

And so she was. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the memory of what had happened, but only managed to see it even more clearly in her mind's eye.

" _Ar lasa mala revas. You are free." His voice was so comforting and sure, like someone who had spoken the words a thousand times. As Solas said his words, she felt something—it was true. She was free. That which she had thought was a mark of honor and adulthood had instead turned out to be just another indicator of how truly uninformed her people were. She would not wear slave markings on her face again._

 _She smiled at Solas, reaching out to touch his face, as free and bare as hers. He reached up and touched her hand as it caressed his cheek, lacing his fingers in with hers to hold it as she let it fall slowly from his face. "You are so beautiful," he told her, sounding breathless, his eyes seeming to drink in every part of her unmarked face._

 _He loved her. Every time she realized that it made her heart feel as though it would beat right out of her chest. She had never expected someone to love her, and certainly not as much as she knew Solas did. "I love you," she told him, still giving him one of her rare and dazzling full smiles. She leaned in, letting go of his hand to wrap it around his waist and hold him close as they kissed_

 _Solas returned her kiss, softly and gently at first and then with more intensity. Shaesa felt free. She felt like she fit perfectly in his arms, and he in hers. His hand traced down her back, lingering in places, seeming to memorize the feel of her body. This moment could go on forever and she would not miss the world._

 _Suddenly, he pulled away, dropping his arms from where he held her close. His face wasn't radiating joy as hers was—he looked conflicted and even anguished. "Solas?" Shaesa asked, confused and still a little breathless from the kiss. "What is it?"_

" _I am sorry," he said, his voice controlled but with a hint of sadness in it. "I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again."_

 _Those words hit her with enough force for her to take a step back as well her arms falling away from him as well. "What?" she whispered. "Solas…what are you…are you serious?"_

" _Please, vhenan," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes._

" _Don't you dare," she said, feeling all too familiar anger bubbling up in her. That rage wasn't something she ever felt at Solas—he was her safe place from that anger and now she was enraged. "You cannot call me that. You take my vallaslin, you take all of me, and now you're going to just leave?"_

" _I wish that it could be different," he said, having the audacity to look sad._

" _It could be," she told him. She shook her head bitterly, her hands shaking in barely-controlled rage. She felt icicles forming under her fingernails. "Did you never care?"_

" _Vhenan," he began, but never got to finish that thought._

 _Shaesa's hand made a loud THWACK as it hit Solas's cheek. He stumbled a step to the right, surprised by the blow. "DO NOT call me vhenan. You do not get to call me your heart when you broke it so carelessly, you son of a bitch." She shook her head, blinking back angry and sad tears in her eyes. "Fen'Harel take you," she said, adding an additional shove to Solas's chest before turning and walking away, just in time for him not to see her tears spill over._

She had spent the rest of the night sleepless. She paced up and down her bedroom, nearly unable to stomach the sight of her bed which had been his too for those few months. Upon arriving back at the room she had taken any of his things that were left in there, clothes or books, and had thrown them into the throne room, telling a nearby servant that they should be returned to Solas's rotunda for him to do with as he wanted. She would have left them just lying there, but hadn't wanted to risk seeing them again.

Her hair had worked free from its normally well-controlled ponytail from her constant running her fingers through it. As she passed the mirror again, confirming again that her vallaslin was gone, she stopped to look at her hair. It lay, long and wavy and limp hanging to her chest. Solas loved seeing her with her hair down. He was the only one who usually did, as she felt having her hair down in public would be too casual for the Inquisitor.

Shaesa felt like there wasn't a bit of her body that was untouched by Solas. Everything was now affected by this betrayal and she couldn't look in a mirror without thinking about him. Against her better judgement, she had allowed herself to trust and open up to another person and now she was no longer herself for it. She no longer felt free, but tethered by her own pain.

Something must change.

Without fully knowing what she was doing, she grabbed a dagger from her desk, then returned to the mirror. She held out a lock of hair and sliced the dagger through. The hair fell to the floor and she felt lighter.

She continued cutting off hair until it was all at a more-or-less uniform cheek length, her waves suddenly much more prominent and the hair bouncier and fuller, almost as if it knew it had been rid of even just a bit of bad memory. Shaesa stared in the mirror at the woman who was her and yet she didn't know. It would be a start, if only a psychological one, to being free from the pain.

With a wave of her hands, the strands of hair on the floor magically gathered together and into her hands. Shaesa slowly walked out onto her balcony, where day was finally beginning to break. With little ceremony, she held her cut hair out over the edge and let it fly away with the wind, perhaps carrying with it some of her heartache.

She might not feel free, but she might again someday.


End file.
